


Probably Not A Secret, No.

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Tie Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 12:48:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1186376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a prompt on the Cabin Pressure kink meme. “There is not nearly enough of tie-pulling leading to kisses in this fandot. Please rectify this (bonus points for first time!).”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Probably Not A Secret, No.

Douglas is dreadfully tall, and Martin  _hates_  it. And it isn’t just that Martin is a little too short to be a captain, it truly isn’t just that! It’s more the fact that Douglas is so bloody  _smug_  about it. What gives him the right to be so superior about something as damn simple as long legs, broad shoulders and a generally bigger-than-Martin form?

He doesn’t even take advantage of it, for the most part. Like now, for instance. Oh, Douglas is wittering on with his smarmy, stupid voice as he leans against the desk in their little cabin, sipping at his cup of tea, and he doesn’t even seem to  _notice_  that the laces on his shoes look uneven or that his tie is skewed, or that one of his cuffs is open and the other is closed - how can someone  _respect_  a man like this?

Martin, on the other hand, never has the barest hair out of place, and yet people act as if he’s barely fifteen. It’s not  _his_  fault he had freckles or plumper lips than he ought, youthful features but a small, scrawny form- it wasn’t his  _fault._

Douglas  _bloody_  Richardson looks so terribly unkempt, and how frustrating it is! How  _bloody_ -

Martin can’t stop himself when he steps forwards, reaching out and up and undoing Douglas’ tie, retying it for himself. Douglas, on a satisfying note, shuts his mouth, looking down at Martin (ugh, and he always looks  _down_  at Martin) with plain surprise on his face. 

Martin fixes his tie soon enough, tightens the knot and makes the tie long, makes sure that it’s equal on both sides, and then he nods to himself, pleased with the effort, before catching Douglas’ tea and setting it aside before grasping his wrist and pulling his arm up in order to better fix the cuff.

"Martin, what are you  _doing_?”

"You look awful!" Martin puffs out, snapping and spitting out the words even though he can feel his cheeks burn. "It’s horrible, Douglas, the days you come in looking like this! You usually make the effort, so why can’t you do it every day?"

And then he crouches - he doesn’t kneel, because despite Arthur’s best efforts with the hoover the floor is awfully dirty and it would be hypocritical to fix Douglas’ clothes whilst ruining the knees of his own trousers - in order to fix the laces of Douglas’ terribly expensive shoes.

"Martin, we are taking nine men, no doubt already somewhat drunk, to Iraklion airport in order for them to irritate the inhabitants of Crete with their no doubt charming presence. Somehow, I doubt that they will notice my looking "awful"."

"That’s not the point!" Martin retorts,and he tugs on the bottom of Douglas’ tie, lightly, in order to tighten it properly. And then he tugs it again, harder, to pull Douglas down to his level - his lips press swiftly to Douglas’ own, and to Martin’s utter satisfaction, Douglas looks even more surprised than before. Douglas’ lips had been warm beneath his own, and Martin takes the ghost of them with him as he draws back.

"And what, pray tell," Douglas asks, voice heavy as honey and even more smug than before. "Is the point?"

"Shut up!"

"Readily,  _Captain_.” Douglas purrs, and Martin huffs, flushing yet redder - enough so that, he’s certain, his freckles will look even worse on his skin. “Captain, might I make a  _request_ , if it wouldn’t upset you too much that I have talked?”

"What?" Martin asks, breathily, because he’s somewhat distracted, as usual, by First Officer Douglas Richardson.

"Will you do that again?"

"Oh. Oh! Oh."

"Oh, oh, oh. Ought I address you as  _Santa_  the next time I-” He cuts Douglas off, pulls him down and kisses him properly, knocks his hat off and sends it dropping to the desk as he kisses Douglas properly. Martin’s hat, its weight of gold braid useful for once, stays on. 

"You will address me as Captain, or Martin." He mumbles when he pulls away again, hand tight on Douglas’ tie - and oh no, what a shame. It seems he has crumpled it: he will have to retie it once again.

"Of course." Douglas returns easily, and he grins. 

"Once more?"

"Yes, yes, I think so." Douglas agrees, and this time  _he_  pulls  _Martin_  closer, all but picks him up as he kisses him hard.

"Chaps! They’re he- Oh." Arthur has gone even redder than Martin when the pilot looks back, wide-eyed and open mouthed in the doorway.

"Yes, Arthur. We’ll be out in just a tick." Douglas purrs, and he makes a shooing motion with his hand. "Off you go."

"Oh, alright-" Arthur turns, but Douglas keeps him back.

"Arthur!"

"Yes?"

"This is a secret, by the way."

"Oh. Oh. Oh, alright, yes, a secret!" Arthur says, and he dashes out into the open air again.

"This isn’t going to stay a secret, is it?" Martin asks, and Douglas laughs.

"Of course not. Come now, we’ve a stag do to transport: it shan’t stay a secret for too long  _unless_  we distract young Arthur.”

****


End file.
